Feb 16, 2015
Molly Eno
There is a story that is changing beneath me. It is collapsing, splitting wide open at the seams. It’s about a boy and a trampoline and a man who owns a restaurant. It’s about my mother, her hair mussed with dirt and dried leaves, my father, whose teeth have all fallen out. It’s about trying to be honest and in trying I said I have been down for so long. But this too I have come through.
All the college girls make art out of Barbie Dolls, hairless and headless, lynched high from wire coat hangers and badly beaten metaphors. “Look how hard it is to be a woman” they say.
“Look how hard it is to be a Barbie Doll,” I say.
I have never been much of a woman.